


where there are no keepsakes

by tigriswolf



Series: meme fics [37]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Darcy Lewis and Tony Stark speak in references, Everyone is Badass, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Healing, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Multi, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Outsider, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Iron Man 3, Post-Thor: The Dark World, no seriously so fucking badass, timelines what timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2122560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stalks into his office and throws the letter onto his desk.  “Returned unopened, Headmaster,” she says.</p><p>There isn’t even an address, just the name <i>Harry Potter</i>.  “Oh, dear,” Albus murmurs.  Then, with barely a glance at her, “Thank you, Minerva.  I’ll handle it from here.” </p><p>[AU where Harry Potter did not grow up with the Dursleys -- he was raised by Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: where there are no keepsakes  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton  
> Warnings: AU, of course. Also, I have several problems with Dumbledore’s actions throughout the course of the series, so while he is not straight up evil here, he is manipulative!Dumbledore, so warnings for that, I guess? Also, there is grief/anger. Also, I am so very much handwaving timelines. So even though the technology doesn’t fit, Avengers/Captain America 2/all of those movies happen in the early 2000s, okay? So Harry’s first year would be in 2014. Also, Thor 2 & Iron Man 3 happened, but Pepper kept extremis.  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky, Thor/Jane, Pepper/Tony, Clint/Natasha/Sam/Darcy, James/Lily  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 6810  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: _Harry Potter Raised By Avengers_  
>  _I just love crossover fics. Especially ones with Harry Potter. So prompt: The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, has been running around Europe slowly remembering and evading Steve because he can't face what he's done and in England he is just hanging out on a street one night when he sees some old man leave a baby on a doorstep with a note. That just doesn't fly because he leaves a baby on a damn doorstep at night? So his protective instincts kick in, he takes one look at the letter, sees the kid's name is Harry and watches over him for the night to make sure nothing bad happens (cause he's not just going to kidnap a kid alright). But in the morning things go from bad to worse when that woman screams and makes a fuss._
> 
>  
> 
> _So he decides screw it and takes the kid. And then goes to Steve because after everything he's done he's no good for a kid right?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Wrong. He and Steve end up raising the boy in the Avengers tower and Dumbledore is going to have a hell of a time trying to get Harry to Hogwarts when that kid turns eleven._

One of the owls carrying the school acceptances returns and drops the unopened envelope on Minerva’s desk. She looks at in stupefaction for a moment, then watches the owl flying away. “What in Merlin’s name?” she murmurs, grabbing the envelope. 

When she reads the name, her eyes widen; and then she is up and hurrying towards the Headmaster’s office. “Starbursts,” she hisses at the gargoyle, which moves aside without delay. Her anger grows with every step, with every turn – she _had_ told him, hadn’t she? The _worst_ sort of muggles, and Lily and James’ son left like the daily post on that stoop! And now letters being returned unopened! 

Oh, but she should have checked on the boy. Not listened to Albus’ assurances, allowed herself to be placated like a girl. She is, after all, a lioness. 

She stalks into his office and throws the letter onto his desk. “Returned unopened, Headmaster,” she says.

There isn’t even an address, just the name _Harry Potter_. “Oh, dear,” Albus murmurs. Then, with barely a glance at her, “Thank you, Minerva. I’ll handle it from here.” 

She wants to _snarl_ at the man, to rend and tear. Instead, she pulls herself to her full height and stares down at him until he meets her eyes. “And how, exactly, Albus, shall you be handling it?” 

He blinks at her over those ridiculous spectacles and then gestures towards one of those ridiculous devices. “He is healthy,” Albus says. “I shall send someone to Lily’s sister to fetch the boy.” 

Minerva glares. “And who, _exactly_ ,” she demands icily, “shall you be sending?” 

There are many times Minerva has allowed herself to be swayed after disagreeing with some plot of his; his reputation as a great man is not, after all, undeserved. He is powerful. He has done so many great things. 

But the world is not a chess board, and people are not chess pieces. 

So when Albus declares, “Hagrid, of course,” Minerva decides that enough is enough. 

Let the man have his plots. She has a dear child to find. It’s the least she owes Lily and James.

.

When she needs to, Minerva can move as quickly as a cat. She is at the Dursley door while Hagrid is still plodding his way to the road for the Knight Bus. She considers for just a moment before choosing to keep her usual robes. She knows Lily’s sister enough to know that her garb will intimidate and irritate; that is all to the good. 

Time has not been kind to Petunia Evans. She looks tired, worn, and old. “ _You_ ,” she says when she opens the door. “Get out of here!” 

“I am here about Lily’s son,” Minerva says, stalking past her. Petunia lunges to the side and slams the door behind her. 

“Lily’s son?” Petunia repeats. “Then shouldn’t you be talking to Lily?” 

Everything in Minerva _stops_. If the boy is not here – has _never_ been here – “Petunia,” she says, “Lily died ten years ago.” 

Petunia blinks at her. Goes to say something and closes her mouth. Raises a hand to her face and shakes her head. “What?” 

“Headmaster Dumbledore left her son on your doorstep with a letter that explained everything. Protections were in place that would take effect when you brought him into the house. A watcher was left to report.” Minerva keeps her voice soft, tone as gentle as she can manage. Petunia is entirely too pale, and blinking far too frequently. “You have a son, Petunia,” she says, because _someone_ was being reported on. 

Petunia nods. 

Minerva sighs. “What happened on November 1 ten years ago?” 

Petunia says, “Ten years ago? I think, there was – there was a baby on the doorstep. I startled – I mean, I opened the door and there was a _child_ , how I could be expected to react? I barely had a chance, and then some man was there, grabbing him, and I just – ” She shakes her head. “I panicked and slammed the door, and I called the police, of course. Nothing ever came of it.” 

She stares up at Minerva with eyes that have never been as green as Lily’s, with blonde hair that has never been as striking as Lily’s dark red. “That was Lily’s boy?” she asks, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. “Lily’s dead?” 

“I – I am very sorry,” Minerva says.

How could this have happened? Why did she never check on the boy? 

“Please get out of my house,” Petunia says. 

Minerva goes. 

.

She visits the muggle authorities but their file is miniscule: a woman reported a strange child and man on her doorstep. There was no evidence anyone had been there. Case closed. 

Ten years is a long time. Albus’ devices show the child still lives, but not where. Is he being cared for? Is he loved? 

If she could go back in time – 

She returns to Hogwarts. Hagrid is there, reporting to the headmaster. Minerva waits quietly, her anger banked for just a moment. She lets it simmer. She must choose her battles wisely, and there are so many other children in her care.

Albus Dumbledore has resources she does not. After Hagrid leaves the office, she says simply, “Find him, Albus.” And when he is found – 

She is, after all, a lioness. 

Albus is solemn, no twinkle in his eyes at all. “I will, Minerva,” he promises. 

She chooses to believe him. She _must_ believe him. What else is there to do? 

.

It is a month into the term when Albus summons Minerva to his office. She cannot help but feel a small jolt of hope; though they have spoken, of course, since Harry Potter’s undelivered letter, she has avoided him when she could. The fact that _she_ had to deal with the public and Ministry’s demands for information did not help. 

WHERE IS HARRY POTTER? was the headline for _weeks_ ; every morning, it sent a shard of grief through her. 

She stalks up the winding staircase, gives Severus, already sitting across from Albus, a nod, and then asks, “Well, Albus?” 

Albus smiles at her, eyes twinkling behind those ridiculous spectacles. And then he says the four words that change everything: “I have found him.” 

.

Harry Potter, Albus informs them, has been secreted away in New York City by a group of muggles. Why, exactly, has yet to be determined, but Albus would prefer to keep the American Ministry of Magic out of things, if at all possible. It was, after all, a kidnapping of a _British_ child and therefore, Albus declared they had the right of reclaiming their wayward boy. 

Severus gives Minerva a dismayed look and then drawls, “Have you completely taken leave of your senses?” 

Albus raises an eyebrow. “The three of us leave at dawn tomorrow for New York.”

“And what are we going to do once we’re there?” Minerva demands. “Snatch the child in the dead of night, hide him away somewhere? Obliviate every muggle who could have seen him in the last decade? Do you truly believe the Americans won’t notice?”

Albus’ eyes flash, but Minerva does not shy away. “I will accompany you tomorrow, Headmaster,” she says, ice-cold, “to keep the situation from deteriorating due to rash actions.” 

“As will I,” Severus adds. “Is there anything you would care to share, Headmaster, about these muggles?” 

Albus glares, but he tells them about men and women known as ‘The Avengers,’ who seem to be a branch of the American muggle aurors. He ends with, “They are still muggles, though, and therefore, they cannot defend Harry when Voldemort or his followers come for him.”

“And I suppose,” Minerva says wearily, “you have no further theories on Voldemort’s method of return?” She allows Severus the dignity of not reacting to his slight flinch. 

“At this time, no,” Albus admits. “I have, I fear, followed all threads to baseless shadows. But I know,” he says firmly, “that Voldemort _will_ return. Only Harry Potter will be able to defeat him and see to it that he is truly gone.” 

Minerva sighs. She has never trusted prophecies, and she does not believe Sibyll Trelawney to be a true Seer – but Albus is set on this course. 

He is no longer the man she gave her loyalty to, all those years ago, and she wonders why it is has taken her so long to see it.

“I will see you in the morning, Albus,” she says. “Severus.” She gives them both nods and takes her leave. 

.

Minerva stares up at the giant tower, marveling at the ingenuity of muggles. She’s wearing a sharp skirt and plain blouse to blend in, while Severus has transfigured his robes into dark slacks and a black shirt. Albus, meanwhile, is wearing a bright red suit. 

A steady stream of muggles enter and exit the tower over the course of the hour they watch from across the street, seated at a fairly pleasant shop called Starbucks. “He lives here?” Minerva asks doubtfully. 

“Yes,” Albus answers. “’The Avengers’ and their families inhabit the top ten floors.” 

“And what name have the muggles been calling him?” Severus says. “I doubt they kept that terrible name Potter chose.” 

Minerva glares at him but he ignores her. Albus replies with, “Evan Rogers-Barnes.” Minerva turns that over in her mind, wondering how whoever took him chose _Evan_ \-- a family name? pleasant sounding? or maybe – maybe they knew Lily and chose it to honor her. She doubts she’ll ever know. 

“Well,” Albus says, rising to his feet. “We have a child to bring home.” 

Severus meets Minerva’s gaze; he looks as worried as she feels. But someone must be here to keep things as calm as possible, and she needs to know that Lily and James’ son is happy and healthy. And maybe – maybe, if he stays with Americans, he will be out of Voldemort’s reach. 

That hope sustains her all the way to the top floor of the opulent building known as Stark Tower. 

.

“Excuse me?” a voice says and they all turn to see a petite red-headed woman. “Who are you and how did you get on this floor?” 

Albus twinkles his eyes at her. “We are here to speak with Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes.” 

“That,” the woman says, and her stance doesn’t change but Minerva gets the distinct impression that this woman is _dangerous_ , “does not answer my question.” 

“I’ve alerted Sir,” another voice says. “Locking down.” 

The woman’s expression doesn’t change as she says, “Thank you, Jarvis.” Another moment, of Severus raising his wand, of Albus turning fully around, of Minerva trying to think of words to diffuse the situation – and Severus is on the ground, the woman has a knife to Albus’ throat and Severus’ wand in her other hand, and she says, “Do not move.” 

Minerva does not move. Severus groans but remains on the floor. Albus opens his mouth and the woman says, “Don’t.” 

Albus closes his mouth. 

“The kids?” the woman asks the air. 

The second voice (and there’s something _wrong_ with it, it does not sound human, but not like any creature Minerva has ever heard), Jarvis? she called it Jarvis – says, “Dr. Banner is with them.” 

The woman smiles. It is not a nice smile. 

“How the fuck did they get up here?” _another_ voice demands. 

Minerva does not risk moving to look, but half a dozen people stream around her, each of them holding some sort of weapon. She recognizes the firearms, but one of them is wearing some sort of machinery, and the largest of them holds a large hammer. 

“Jarvis?” the one in the machinery says. 

The voice in the air replies, “They entered the tower at 9:23 am and made their way to the stairs.” The voice details out the entire journey, including the three notice-me-not charms and the disillusionment Albus cast. 

Three women: one brunette and two red-haired, though neither quite reach Lily’s shade. The first still holds a knife to Albus’ throat, though she slowly lowers it. She says again, “Do not move.” The second red-haired woman’s hand is glowing, and the brunette holds some muggle device that, considering how everyone else is armed, is probably a weapon, though unlike anything Minerva has ever seen.

Four men: two blond, one holding a shield with a star on it and the other the hammer; the man in the machinery; and then a dark-haired man with a silver arm, with a dozen weapons on his person that she can see, which means that surely there are some she can’t. 

What in Merlin’s name is going on? What sort of muggles _are_ these? 

“Gandalf here said he wanted to talk to Barnes and Rogers,” the first woman announces. 

The man with the silver arm narrows his eyes. “I remember you,” he says, glaring at Albus. Then he turns that glare on Minerva. “Both of you. You left Evan on that woman’s doorstep at _night_ in _November_ in _England_.” 

Albus blinks at him, then tilts his head. “Yes,” he murmurs, then louder, “ _You_ are the man in Petunia’s memory!” 

At that, the man jerks back a little and the man with the shield steps up next to him. “Which makes you Dumbledore,” he says. “We read the letter.” 

Albus actually _smiles_. “Then you know why we’ve come for Harry,” he says pleasantly. 

Minerva closes her eyes because it’s like the blasted fool has no sense at all. 

“Why you’ve what?” the man in the machinery demands. “You’re not taking Evan _anywhere_.” 

Albus’ wand is in his hand and – 

Nothing happens. He stares dumbfoundedly at his wand, then glances at Minerva, and finally back at the muggles. 

“Well,” the man in the machinery says, “guess Frosty’s protection works.” 

“Of course it does,” the one with the hammer says with a large grin. “My brother is the greatest sorcerer of all the realms.” 

Severus groans again and begins to stir. Minerva asks, “Can we please start this over?” 

The brunette says, “Sure. You seem to be the most reasonable. Why don’t we all go take a seat, wait for Loki to show up, and then talk about whatever the fuck you’re doing here?” She smiles at Minerva. “How’s that sound?” 

“That sounds lovely,” Minerva says. It sounds like the only option she has. 

.

Minerva and Albus each sit on either side of the large loveseat; the blond with the hammer picks up Severus like he weighs nothing and drops him between them. Minerva steadies him as he blinks himself awake. “Damn,” he mutters. 

“Quite so,” she replies softly. 

The red-headed woman still has Severus’ wand. She gives them a bland smile and orders, “Hand them over.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Albus retorts, chin tilting up like he has any room to stand here at all. 

“Yes,” the woman with the glowing hand says, “you do.” Her smile is just as terrifying as the first woman’s. “You’ve seen that your magic doesn’t work, so disarming yourself is simply a formality, but one that we’d prefer.” 

Minerva glances back at the brunette, who gives her an encouraging nod. “Just do it, Albus,” she mutters at him, slowly reaching into her sleeve. 

Albus’ fingers clutch his wand. “I will not,” he says. “How dare you treat us like common criminals!” 

The man in the machinery laughs, loud and long. “You hear this shit, Pep?” he asks when he’s done, when everyone (except the first red-haired woman and the man with the silver arm) is looking at him. “They break into my tower, sneak through my home, threaten me with their little sticks – and think I’m treating them like common criminals.” He laughs again; there’s something wild in his eyes. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” He stalks toward them, eyes intent on Albus. “You have no idea what I do to those who threaten me and mine.” 

“Tony,” the blond with the shield says, command in his tone. 

And then there’s yet another man in the room, and he sounds so much like Tom Riddle when he drawls, “Albus Dumbledore, you utter fool.” He sighs disappointedly. “You tried magic on my mortals, tsk tsk.” 

He’s tall, taller than all of them but the blond with the hammer, with dark hair pulled back and bright green eyes – almost the same shade as Lily’s, she thinks, the same shade as Harry’s. 

“Jarvis,” he says, those bright eyes on Albus with not even a single glance towards Severus or Minerva, “how fare the children?” 

“Very well, Mr. No-one’s-son,” the Jarvis voice answers. “Mr. Barton has distracted Mr. Evan and Ms. Meg with an archery lesson while Mr. Wilson and Dr. Foster read Mr. Benji, Mr. Henry, and Ms. Sarah a story. The Drs. Banner are with them.” 

No-one’s-son? _What_ in the name of Merlin and all the founders is going on? 

“Stark,” he says, finally looking at Minerva and Severus for a moment, “fear not: there is no way to the children unless I grant it.” His eyes flick to the wand, still clenched in Albus’ fingers. “That is mine.” He flicks his right hand up and the wand materializes in green flames. 

Albus gasps and lunges to his feet while the man just smiles, showing all of his teeth. “I read that letter three years after James came home with the child. I felt the darkness entombed in the child’s mind the moment I arrived.” Minerva cannot take her eyes off him, her every instinct screaming to stay small, stay quiet, _survive_. Severus is leaning against her, head tilted down, in a way she hasn’t seen since he was a tiny first year. “The greatest healers of Asgardr destroyed that darkness, Supreme Mugwump,” he says, and with a grand flourish of his hands, Albus’ wand is gone. 

“We are here for Harry Potter,” Albus seethes. She knows that his magic should be buffeting them all, that Fawkes should have arrived in a pillar of fire – but he is only an old man, here, and that is more terrifying than anything else. So Minerva reaches past Severus to grab his arm and tug him back down, focusing on the brunette. 

“Let us start over,” she says again. “Please.” She carefully avoids looking at No-one’s-son to keep her composure. 

She lets out a sigh of relief when everyone takes a step back. 

“Very well,” No-one’s-son agrees pleasantly. “Your wand?” 

Minerva holds it out and the red-head takes it. 

.

“Now,” the blond with the shield says, “who are you, why are you here, and why on god’s green earth did you leave a child on a doorstep at night in November in England?” Each word is enunciated clearly, his tone even throughout, and his lips upturned, but Minerva does not believe it to be a smile. 

The man in the machinery, Stark, somehow makes the machinery fold away, so that he’s left in simple trousers and a white sleeveless shirt. He sprawls on a stool on the far side of the room, but those dark eyes never leave Albus. 

Albus opens his mouth; Minerva pinches his arm and hisses, “Don’t.” He subsides so she takes a deep breath. “I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” she begins. She pats Severus on the arm. “This is Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House and the potions instructor. And you seem to already know Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.” 

No-one’s-son grins again. “I investigated once the healers dealt with that –” he pauses, as if searching for the right word, “— _blemish_ , and I was quite unimpressed.” He glances at the blond with the hammer. “But I am quite busy being the All-Father and all, so after placing a few minor protections, I returned to my duties.” 

The blond nods. “Yes, brother, thank you,” he says, clasping No-one’s-son on the shoulder with his free hand. “Sarah and Henry miss you; please see them before you leave?” 

“Of course,” he says. He nods towards the room in general. “Mortals.” And then he’s just gone as silently as he came. It is not disapparition. Minerva rubs at the side of her head where she feels an ache forming. 

If she had not chosen to accompany Albus on this fool’s errand, he would most likely – no. She knows that No-one’s-son or the first red-head would have killed him. 

“So,” the brunette says, “I’m Darcy Lewis. I guess I’m what you’d call a liaison between the Avengers and the American magical government? Being a squib and all.” 

Oh, by Merlin’s long and gray-haired beard. Minerva buries her face in her hand. 

Darcy Lewis says with satisfaction, “I always love that _oh, crap_ face.”

.

While Lewis rambles about the American ministry and her little sister the mage prodigy, the muggles spread out across the room. The only one that doesn’t sit down is the man with the silver arm, the one who recognized her and Albus. That means he was there that night; he is the one who took Harry Potter from the Dursleys. He meets her eyes with a steady gaze and does not look away. 

“So!” Lewis says. “Introduction time, I suppose. Avengers, raise your hand when I call your name!” 

Stark groans. “You’re such a menace, Darce.” 

“He’s Tony Stark, richest and smartest man in the world,” Lewis says, ignoring him. “Tends to blow up people he doesn’t like.” She grins at them. “And the woman next to him, she’s Pepper Potts, most powerful woman in the world because she’s CEO of Stark Industries.” Lewis’ grin sharpens. “Not that I expect magicals from Britain to know or care about that. But you really shoulda done your homework, dudes.” She continues on brightly, “And over there with the hammer, that’s Thor. He’s a god.” Thor grins at them. “And then, the Adonis with the shield, he’s Steve Rogers, Captain America, the star-spangled man with the plan.” She pauses and makes sure to look Minerva, Severus, and Albus in the eye before saying, “Evan is his son.” 

Minerva nods to show she understands. Lewis grins before moving on. “And then, the hottie with the metal arm – he’s James Barnes, and Evan’s also _his_ son. And last, but certainly not least, because she’s probably the most dangerous person in this room: Natasha Romanoff!” Lewis finishes with a flourish. 

She leans back into the couch. “Now, Gandalfs and Morwen, maybe you should explain a) how you came to have custody of Harry Potter in the first place and b) why you didn’t go to the government before sneaking into the most secure building on the planet.” 

Severus says, carefully modulating his tone, “Albus is the Chief Warlock; there was no better guardian. It was a dangerous time.” 

Minerva nods. “I objected to placing Harry with his mother’s sister, but Albus provided sound arguments.” 

Lewis taps her lips with her finger and then says, “And nobody bothered to check on him for a decade? That letter talked about protection wards that – if I remember my magical theory correctly – never happened because he never went inside that house.” 

“Look,” Barnes says, turning a ferocious glare on Albus, “none of this matters. It’s old shit; it’s in the past. Evan’s ours and you ain’t getting him back, even if I have to tear you all apart to make it happen.” 

“Agreed,” Rogers says quietly. 

“Fuck yeah,” Stark thirds. “Now, answer Darcy’s second question.” 

Minerva sighs as quietly as she can. This time, she doesn’t bother stopping Albus from answering. “You are muggles,” he says. To his credit, he’s trying to be diplomatic. From the expressions ranged against him, that isn’t much credit at all. “This matter does not concern you and I thought it leave the government out entirely because there was no point in bothering them.” And he’s trying the grandfatherly twinkle again.

Where is the master tactician from their younger days? How did she not notice until Harry Potter failed to appear? 

Barnes’ face shuts down entirely. He moves toward them, but Rogers grabs him around the middle and says, “Not yet, Bucky.” Barnes nods but his gaze does not leave Albus and Minerva shivers. 

“Hey, Darce,” Stark says, “what are muggles again?” 

“The British term for humans without magic,” she answers promptly. “It’s as offensive as squib, to be honest. I prefer mundane, myself.” 

“Oh, I get it,” Stark pronounces. “So, what, you were gonna sneak in here, grab a kid, and then erase all of our memories, and probably his, since the boy I know would’ve raised all sorts of hell, and then you were gonna go back to magic land and pretend like nothing ever happened.” He laughs, low and dark. “Evan’s not my son, but he’s the brother of my daughter, and I swear to all the gods I’ve met and not, I have killed people for less than what you did today.” 

“I just wanted to know he was doing well,” Minerva says. “That he was happy and healthy and loved. I never wanted to leave him with Lily’s sister, but I trusted Albus against my better judgment, and when I realized that Harry was missing –” She blinks back tears. “I’ve never had a child of my own, but I thought of Lily as the closet thing. She was… she was so lovely, and kind, and brilliant.” 

All of the Americans look at Barnes, whose gaze has switched from Albus to Minerva. “You didn’t come to take him?” he asks, voice just a bit kinder. 

“I swear in Merlin’s name,” she says. “I’d hoped to keep the situation from deteriorating, though I have clearly failed. I just need to see that Lily’s boy is safe.” 

“Tell us what you know about Voldemort,” Rogers orders. “The letter was vague, and Loki couldn’t uncover much beyond terrorist activities and horrifying propaganda.”

“And the mark with dark magic,” Thor rumbles. “It troubled my brother, that you left such a mark on a child. Explain it well or suffer my wrath.” 

“Yeah, that,” Stark says. “It better be good.” 

“Deputy Headmistress,” Potts says, “if we are satisfied at the end of this discussion, and if the fathers agree, you will be given a short visitation with Evan. Headmaster Dumbledore will not attend.” 

Minerva thinks that over for half a minute and then nods. “Very well.

.

It takes nearly an hour for Severus and Minerva to relate everything they know. Albus spends the whole time in a furious silence. She wonders how long it’s been since he was not treated with awe and reverence, and then decides she does not care. 

“What is the entire prophecy?” Potts asks after Severus tells the part he knows. 

Minerva’s attention is caught at the looks exchanged between Barnes, Romanoff, and Stark: a series of raised eyebrows, shrugs, and head tilts. 

“I do not know the entire prophecy,” Severus says. “The Dark Lord never learned it, either. Only Albus knows it.” 

“I can guess,” Lewis breaks in. “No man of woman born, or no man-made weapon, some shit like that.” 

Stark smirks. “What’s that do?” he says like he’s quoting something and Lewis nods. 

“Harry Potter was born to kill the Dark Lord Voldemort,” Albus says in such a patronizing tone that Minerva herself wants to slap him. “It is his destiny. It is why we need him to come home. You cannot protect him from it.” 

Every single person in the room gives him the exact same look.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stark demands. “Did you just check out or something?” 

“Tony,” Potts says quietly and he settles back down. 

“Lady Witch,” Thor says, meeting Minerva’s gaze and then Severus’. “Sir Wizard. What do you two know of the mark left on Evan?” 

“I thought it to be a curse scar,” Minerva answers. “He survived the Killing Curse, something that has never been done before. It made sense for it to mark him.” 

Severus nods. “I thought the same.” 

Albus does not speak, either to confirm or deny. Minerva decides then that if she survives, she will do her level best to remove him from Hogwarts. This is utterly ridiculous, and the very last situation he should be so petty in – maybe he has been stretched too thin, with three full-time jobs, or maybe he has lost himself in his own legend? It matters not. 

Lewis’ expression is almost kind as she looks at Minerva, before shifting her gaze to Potts. “What do you think?” she asks. “We satisfied?” 

Potts nods. “With two of them, at least. Steve, James – do we have permission for the Deputy Headmistress to meet your son?” 

Barnes crosses his arms, staring down at Minerva with ice in his gaze. “Yes,” he finally says. Rogers nods. 

“And, I, please?” Severus grits out. “I need only see that he is well, not interact with him.” He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. 

“Dumbledore, you stay here,” Stark orders. “Jarvis, don’t let him leave this room.” 

“Of course, Sir,” the voice says. 

Thor smiles. “I shall stay with the headmaster.” 

Romanoff grins, too. “So shall I.” 

Minerva rises to her feet and follows them from the room. After a tiny moment of hesitation, so does Severus. 

.

“Step into my parlor, please,” Lewis says with a flourish as two doors slide open. “We’re going down ten flights,” she explains as Minerva and Severus enter first. The elevator is entirely different from the one at the Ministry, and a much pleasanter experience.

Lewis keeps up a monologue about the tower, about the Avengers, and about “Gandalf’s” ridiculous beard, though “Movie!Gandalf was so much cooler than that asshat upstairs, you know?” 

Minerva blinks at her, then at Severus. Severus is actually smiling, just a little. 

When the doors open, the first thing Minerva sees is a dark-skinned man holding a firearm. “’s’alright, Sammy,” Lewis announces. “I know Jarvis told you that.” 

The man shrugs, holstering the weapon. “Just being safe, babe,” he answers, eyes tracking back to Minerva and Severus as everyone steps out of the elevator. “Who’re our guests?” 

“A witch and wizard from magic land, come to marvel at the muggles,” Stark says. “Muggles being us poor magic-less folks.” 

“Alright,” Sammy says, “could I maybe get an actual introduction?” 

Potts sighs. “Sam, can you go get everyone but Bruce and the children, please?” She gives Minerva a pleasant smile as Sam hurries down the hall. “It’s not that we don’t trust you,” she says kindly. “It’s just that we don’t trust you.” 

“Of course,” Minerva says. “I completely understand.” And she does. Had Albus come alone – oh, that might have been quite catastrophic, especially with No-one’s-son involved. 

Sam comes back with two brunette women and another blond man. “Deputy Headmistress, Mr. Snape,” Potts says, “these are the remaining members of our family: Dr. Betty Banner,” the taller woman waves, “Dr. Jane Foster,” the shorter woman waves, “Clint Barton,” the man raises an eyebrow, “and Sam Wilson.” The black man smiles charmingly. 

“Everyone,” Potts says, “These are Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and Professor Severus Snape. They are here to meet Evan.” 

“Why?” Barton asks, crossing his arms. 

“Because he used to be Harry Potter,” Barnes says, pushing past them all to go down the hall. Rogers follows immediately. 

“Well, okay,” Stark says. “Let’s keep up the tour then.” He and Potts explain the art on the walls, the design of the tower, while Lewis gives the newcomers a quick summary. Minerva, eager to distract herself, pays attention to the art. 

.

In a large room, there are five children and one unassuming man with a small smile on his unremarkable face. 

Minerva will never be able to explain the fear that jolts through her in his presence. She forges through it and drags her gaze away from him to the children. 

One of them, the oldest, is clearly James and Lily Potter’s son: he has his father’s messy dark hair and lanky build promising height, but his face is shaped like his mother’s, with her brilliant green eyes. (She ignores how similar he appears to No-one’s-son.) The older girl is maybe eight or nine, with dark blonde hair and dark eyes; she is holding a toddler with long dark hair while another leans against her legs; and the final child is a boy of about five with bright blue eyes and dark hair tinted red. 

“Hey, kids,” Stark says. “Wanna see a magic trick?” 

“Stark,” Barton groans. “Let’s give the kid and his dads some privacy.” He turns to the children. “Evan, your dads need to talk to you. The rest of you brats: forward, march!” He glances at Minerva and mutters, “C’mon,” as they all trump into another room, leaving Harry, Barnes, and Rogers alone. 

Dr. Foster takes the toddler from the girl, kissing both the one in her arms and the one still on the floor. “Loki popped in,” she says to the room in general. “He promised them another ice beast for their birthday.” 

Stark laughs. “Well, we’ll put it in the petting zoo with the rest.” 

“Yeah,” Dr. Foster sighs. “I keep asking for something cuddly and he looks at me like I slapped him. Again.” 

“Daddy,” the older girl says, leaning against Stark’s leg. “What about the magic trick?” 

“There is one thing I can do without my wand,” Minerva says. The girl turns to look at her, but Minerva keeps her gaze on Stark. She is not sure whether Potts or Stark is actually in charge, but it is Stark’s name on the building. “It will not harm anyone.” 

“Please?” the girl asks, turning those dark, beseeching eyes on Minerva.

“Go on, then,” Stark commands, smirking. “Impress us.” 

So Minerva turns into a cat. 

.

For the fifteen minutes it takes for Harry and his fathers to join the rest, Minerva allows Stark’s daughter to pet her. The girl shows the two toddlers how, but the middle boy stays away, tucked in close with Lewis. Severus is discussing muggle science with the Drs. Banner – chemistry, she thinks is the word she hears. If so, that makes sense: it is the most similar to potions, if she remembers correctly.

“Introduction time!” Lewis announces when Harry, Barnes, and Rogers finally step into the room. “Yo, Morwen, human again, please.” 

Minerva daintily steps away from the children and resumes her true form. The children cheer and Barnes actually smiles. “Can anyone do that?” he asks, looking young for the first time she’s seen. He can’t be much more than thirty – which means he was probably the same age as Lily and James when he took Harry. He and Rogers are the youngest of the group by a good bit. (No, that’s not quite right, she thinks; Romanoff looked fairly young, too.)

“It is a very difficult art to master,” she says. “Very few manage it. James Potter did.” 

Harry ducks behind Rogers. Minerva tries not to wince. 

“Deputy Headmistress,” Rogers says, “this is my son, Evan Rogers-Barnes.” The boy peeks out and Minerva tries smiling at him. He slowly emerges.

“Can you teach me to be a cat?” Stark’s daughter asks, tugging on Minerva’s shirt. 

“Meg,” Potts says. The girl pouts but goes to her. 

“Introductions!” Lewis repeats. “So, that’s Evan, son of the supersoldier duo. Meggie there is Tony and Pepper’s daughter; the twins are Sarah and Henry, children of the genius and the god; and last but not least is my baby boy, Benji!” She scoops up the middle boy and spins him around while he laughs. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” Minerva says. “Evan,” and it hurts to use that name, but it is _his_ name and use it she will, “did your fathers explain why I am here?” 

He nods. “’cause I’m magic,” he says. “Like Uncle Loki.” 

She smiles at him again. “Yes. Your birth parents were James and Lily Potter, very dear friends of mine. You have been enrolled at my school, Hogwarts, since your birth. Did –” she glances at Rogers. “Did your fathers ever tell you of the circumstances that led to you being here?” 

He lights up, like Lily did the first time she saw the Great Hall. “Of course!” he says. “It’s my favorite story!” 

“Tell it, tell it, tell it!” Lewis’ son Benji starts chanting. The twins quickly take it up, and then Stark’s daughter. 

Minerva looks back at Rogers. “Should we take this somewhere else?” she asks quietly. 

He shakes his head. “We’re a family,” he says. Then, a little louder, “Guys! That’ll be our story tonight, alright?” 

The other children settle down, all of them pouting. Minerva asks Evan, “Did they tell you about the bad man mentioned in the letter?” 

Evan nods. “That’s why Uncle Loki put up the wards,” he says. “On everywhere we live, and on each of us.” He smiles at her. “Uncle Loki’s the best sorcerer of all time. Ain’t no bad man ever getting us.” 

“I am glad to hear it,” she tells him truthfully. Then, “Are you happy?” she asks. 

He grins at her. “I live in Stark tower,” he says. “I’m the happiest kid in the world, I bet.” He glances at the other children. “Well, as happy as them, at least.” 

“May I hug you, Evan?” she asks. Had things gone differently – he would’ve been raised as her grandson, of that she is sure. That she left him on a doorstep in November – she will never forgive herself, for as long as she lives. 

He stares up at her, and then he nods. She kneels down to embrace him and he does not hug her back, but she assures herself that it does not bother her. “Thank you,” she murmurs before letting go and standing up.

“Thank you,” she says again to Barnes and Rogers. “Whatever life he would’ve had with Lily’s sister – it would have been adequate, I am sure. But this –” She gestures towards the walls of the tower. “I know this is better.” 

Barnes nods, looking back down at Evan then the rest of the children. “C’mon, kiddos,” he says. “We have a scavenger hunt to finish, don’t we?” 

All of the children, including Evan, cheer and rush from the room. Barnes follows without looking back. 

“Thank you,” Severus says quietly from the corner where he’s been looming. 

“Well, let’s go collect Gandalf and get you out of my tower,” Stark says.

.

Albus is sulking on the loveseat while Romanoff smirks from across the room and Thor looms dangerously beside her. “I have the rest of the prophecy,” Romanoff announces. “It’ll take a day, max.” 

“Good,” Rogers says. He turns to Minerva, holding out a hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He shakes her hand firmly, nods to Severus, and then says, “Jarvis, let me know when they’re gone.” 

“Of course, Captain,” Jarvis answers. 

When Rogers leaves, only Romanoff, Thor, and Stark remain. “Well,” Stark says, “it’s not like I don’t have other stuff to do today. You found your way here; find your way out.” 

Minerva walks over to the loveseat. “Come, Albus,” she says. “We never had a welcome here, but we have most definitely worn it out.” 

He glares up at her. “I will not leave without Harry Potter!” 

“Albus,” Severus sighs, coming to stand next to her. “This is a fight we cannot win, that we should not even attempt. The boy is happy, healthy, and safe.” 

“The Boy Who Lived,” Minerva spits, “what nonsense! If you could not defeat Voldemort at your best, what chance does a child have?” 

“Ooh, good thing Cap’s not here,” Stark says from across the room. “And Buckcicle woulda filled you full of lead, old man.” 

“Albus,” Minerva says again, “we are going home.” She grabs his arm to pull him up and he lets her with ill grace. 

“I’ll escort you out,” Romanoff says with a smile. “Thank you for your cooperation.” 

.

At the front entrance, Romanoff says, “Also, we’ll be filing a report with the magical government.” 

Minerva sighs. “Of course you are.” 

.

Back at Hogwarts, Albus shuts himself away in his quarters. Severus disappears into the dungeons. Minerva goes to her personal library, pulls out a photo-album, and tells the younger Lily and James all about the wonderful boy their son has grown up to be. All three of them are crying by the time she reaches the hug. 

.

When the American ministry is done, Albus Dumbledore is barely still the Chief Warlock. He is removed as headmaster and Minerva neatly slips into place, the lioness at last in control of the pride.

Voldemort never returns. Neither does Harry Potter. 

But on every November 1, Minerva receives a postcard of some American miscellanea with a few sentences about Evan’s latest adventure and she smiles happily, placing it with the rest in the photo-album, next to Lily and James.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started a sequel to this that'll never be finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would've been a 5+1 thing about the kids. *shrugs*

_1 Evan Abraham Rogers-Barnes (15 months)_

Steve wakes up and there is a man standing in his room holding a toddler. He blinks, wipes at his eyes, and blinks again before saying, “Bucky, what the fuck?” 

Because it _is_ Bucky, with too long hair and ratty clothes, holding a child. 

“I need your help,” Bucky says softly. His metal hand spans the child’s whole back, his flesh one cradling the fragile skull. 

“Anything,” Steve says, throwing aside the blanket to stand up. 

.

Steve sits Bucky down at the kitchen table, doesn’t call anybody, doesn’t try taking the boy away from him, doesn’t demand answers. He just makes some cocoa and a platter of sandwiches, sets it all in front of Bucky, and waits patiently while Bucky tries to figure out how to eat while holding a sleeping child. 

Bucky’s eyes keep going from the kid to Steve and back, and he’s nibbling his lip to death, the way he always did while working out a problem. He finally offers the boy to Steve and Steve carefully takes him. 

The story pours out in fragmented sentences and tangents while Bucky works his way through seven ham&cheese sandwiches. 

The gist, as far as Steve can determine, is this: Bucky was in England, saw a couple place a basket on a doorstep, have a conversation that made no sense, and vanish in plain sight, leaving a basket with a toddler sleeping inside on a doorstep at night in November in England. And Bucky didn’t know what to do, so he lurked till sunrise, when a woman opened the door, saw the basket and baby, screamed, flailed at the basket, kept screaming – 

“So I grabbed him,” Bucky says while the toddler begins to stir in Steve’s arms. “I grabbed him and went to ground.” He shrugs. 

“You found in him England,” Steve says. Bucky nods. Steve watches the boy’s eyes open, a vibrant green, and he says, “Bucky, we’re in Brooklyn.” 

Bucky nods again. Steve doesn’t bother asking how he got from England to New York with a child with no ID at all. 

.

The kid wakes up crying; Steve’s not surprised. Bucky’s taking a shower, so Steve calls out, “I’ve got him, Buck, don’t worry!” and tries to jiggle the baby into calming down, tries humming and singing and walking around, wracks his mind for anything he has that could feed a baby. 

… has the kid been changed lately? Shit. He goes to the couch and sets the kid in the middle, gently unwrapping the blankets. An envelope falls to the side but he lets it be, for now. He’s as gentle as he can possibly be, but the kid is still sobbing, screaming, “Ma ma ma ma!” 

 

2 Margaret Angeline Potts-Stark (conception to birth)

Darcy’s pov on being surrogate 

 

3 Benjamin Ivan Lewis (1 year)

Clint’s pov on finding Natasha&Bucky’s kid 

4&5 Sarah Frigga and Henry Vincent (infants)

Loki’s pov on his niece and nephew (and the road of how he ended up frenemies with his brother’s companions)


End file.
